Barclay would insist that he was never more sober in his life, but that
Horton and Cox were "pos-(hic)-tively-(hic)-beasley." All three would
then start off, bent on seeing one another safely home, and, like the
blind leading the blind, generally fall into the ditch. Three irate
women would then make their appearance on the scene, and they would each
be led home, declaring they were never more sober in their lives. Fox
found that Cox was known by his friends as Josh. Cox, and he was what
might be called a lazy loafer, as were also his friends, Horton and
Barclay. Fox did not try to get any information from Cox, but got all he
possibly could from his friends, Horton and Barclay, who proved easy
talkers and kept nothing back. He now concluded it was a good time to
find out about Cox. He discovered in the course of the evening that
Josh. had a clock that needed repairs but did not care to go to the
expense of getting it fixed. So he said: "Josh., you are a pretty good
sort of a man, and I'll tell you what I will do for you; I am not going
to work in the morning, and so I will come down to your house in the
course of the forenoon and fix up your clock for you and not charge you
a cent for the job." Cox was so much pleased at this liberal offer that
he took another drink at Fox's expense and went home highly delighted.
In the morning Cox called for Fox, and again drinking at his expense,
conducted him to his house and gave him the clock to repair. Fox now saw
Mrs. Cox for the first time. She seemed a very civil woman and a great
talker. She was of middle stature, with black hair and eyes, and dark
complexion. When I received this description, I immediately said she
must be a relative of Mrs. Maroney's, and so she eventually proved. In
the course of the conversation Fox gleaned that Mrs. Cox had some
relatives living in Philadelphia, which was nothing astonishing, and he
got very little information from her. Cox was out of employment, but
expected work soon; his house was commodious and very neatly kept, and
Mrs. Cox seemed a good housekeeper. Having finished the repairs to the
clock, Fox returned to the tavern, where he found Barclay and Horton,
and soon had the glasses circulating. The pleasant liquor caused all the
parties to grow familiar, and Fox was regaled with many a rare bit of
scandal. He finally spoke of the Coxes from whom he had just returned,
and was at once given their history so far as it was known in
Jenkintown. The family had been in the town about four years, and had
moved there from Morrisville, N. J. Josh. was not inclined to work, and
just managed to scrape enough money together to live on. They had three
children, and Mrs. Cox was a native of Philadelphia. Fox concluded, from
all he saw and heard, that the people of Morrisville would be able to
give him full information of the antecedents of the Coxes, and came into
Philadelphia on the following day to get instructions. I was perfectly
satisfied with what he had done so far, and on the next day sent him to
Morrisville. Fox plied his trade in Morrisville with great success, and
soon got acquainted with many of its inhabitants. His disguise was a
splendid one to travel with, as at that time the clock-maker was
welcomed everywhere, and while engaged at his work would amuse his
patrons with thrilling stories of his adventures, or with the details of
city life. In this way Fox got acquainted with many people who knew the
Coxes when they were living at Morrisville, and they unanimously gave
Josh. the character of a "ne'er do weel," although there was nothing
against him but his laziness. Josh. had lived for three years in
Morrisville, and but very little was known of his previous life. His
wife was known as a hard-working woman, and that was all that could be
learned about her. Fox discovered, incidentally, that Josh. had a
brother living at Centreville, near Camden, in the State of New Jersey.
After a while he got around there, travelling all the way by the wagon
road, and occasionally repairing a clock on the way. It would not do
while assuming his present character to travel by rail.
On getting to Centreville he at once proceeded with his "dickering,"
being ready to either mend a clock or trade a watch. He found there was
a Jim Cox in town who had a clock to fix, so he went to his house and
got the job. He entered into conversation with Jim while engaged in
repairing the clock, but found him a surly, uncommunicative, unsocial
man, but Fox was a thoroughly good fellow and did not mind an occasional
rebuff. So he took up the conversation, explained what was the matter
with the clock, gave an interesting description on the works of clocks
in general, and finally partially thawed Jim out. "By the by," said Fox,
"I repaired a clock for a man of your name in Jenkintown; it was in a
very bad condition, but I fixed it up as good as new; so I will this
one. Do you know this Cox? they call him Josh. Cox.
"Oh, yes!" laughed Jim, "he is a brother of mine!"
"I am glad to hear it!" remarked Fox, "he is a mighty fine fellow! His
wife is a very superior woman. Let me see, who was it her sister married
down South? She has a sister there, hasn't she?"
"Yes," said Jim.
"Where?" enquired Fox, as he put a pin in the clock.
"I don't remember the name of the place; used to know it. Her husband is
agent for the Adams Express at--at--yes--Montgomery! that's it,
Montgomery! Don't remember her husband's name."
"You are like me in having a bad memory for names," said Fox, and then,
having got the information he wanted, he turned the conversation to
other subjects, all the time keeping busily engaged at his work.
He made a first class job of the clock, so that no enquiries should be
afterwards instituted, and collecting his bill, slowly wended his way to
Camden. From Camden he crossed the river to Philadelphia and reported to
me at the Merchants' Hotel. Bangs and I were seated in a private room
when Fox came in. After hearing his report I turned to Bangs and said:
"The plot thickens! Every day we are nearing success! We have the woman
treed at last, and in the North, among our friends! Depend upon it we
shall have the money ere long!"
_CHAPTER XI._
On Saturday I removed to the Washington House, as Mrs. Maroney was still
there. I found she did not go out much, seeming to prefer to remain in
her room with Flora. Sunday morning I went to the breakfast room with
the determination of seeing her, but although I waited and waited, she
did not come, and I afterwards found that she had taken her breakfast in
her room.
I loitered about the house till after twelve, noon, at which time I was
standing near the main entrance when I noticed a carriage drive up and
stop. A gentleman alighted and walked into the hotel. In about twenty
minutes Mrs. Maroney appeared escorted by the gentleman--a tall,
handsome man, about forty-five years old--entered the carriage with him
and was driven rapidly off, unaccompanied by Flora.
I was completely nonplussed, as she was gone almost before I knew she
was there. As it was mid-day and in the heart of the city, it would not
do for me to run after them, as I would soon fall into the hands of the
police by having the cry of stop thief raised after me. I felt very much
like following and standing my chances, as at that time I was young and
supple, but before I could come to a conclusion the carriage was whirled
around the corner of Tenth street and lost to view.
I loitered around for some time and then started towards my room. As I
reached the head of the stairs, I saw a little girl playing in the hall,
and, from the description I had received, concluded that she must be
Flora. As she came past me I patted her gently on the head and calling
her a sweet little girl, had a few seconds conversation with her.
Glancing down the stair-way, I saw a lady looking out from the door of
the reception room:
"Oh, my dear!" said I, "there is your ma; she seems to be looking for
you!"
"That ain't my ma!" she answered. "My ma has gone for a drive with Mr.
Hastenbrook!"
"Oh, indeed! Where is she going?"
"She's gone to Manayunk! You can't catch me!"
And Flora, who was full of fun, darted down the hall.
I had gained a point and I hurried to the Merchants' Hotel, saw Bangs,
posted him, and started him off in a carriage for Manayunk to note the
actions of Mrs. Maroney and her escort. Bangs soon had them under his
eye and was enabled to get a good, full look at her escort, Mr.
Hastenbrook. He found, afterwards, that Mr. Hastenbrook was the head of
one of the largest shirt manufactories in the city. He carried on an
extensive business with the South, and, outside of his business, was
known as a great ladies' man. He was very gallant to Mrs. Maroney, and
Bangs concluded, from their actions, that they also "loved not wisely."
At five o'clock they returned and Hastenbrook took supper at the
Washington House. At supper I had a good full view of them, but neither
of them noticed me, as I was dressed in coarse, rough clothes--a common
occurrence with me. She little thought how closely I held her fate in my
hands. Mr. Hastenbrook remained in her room till after midnight, Flora
having gone to bed long before he left.
On Monday morning I left her in charge of Green and went to talk over
matters with the General Superintendent. Suddenly Green burst in upon us
and said that Mrs. Maroney and Flora had gone to the North Pennsylvania
station.
I was much annoyed at his having left her to report and ordered him to
go as quickly as possible to the station. If she had gone he must follow
her on the next train and get off at Jenkintown. I described Cox and his
residence and told him to watch and see if he could not find her
somewhere in the neighborhood.
I told the Vice-President that I did not doubt but that Mrs. Maroney
knew the particulars of the robbery, and I had some idea that she had
the money with her. Jenkintown was a small place, where she felt she
could hide securely, and remain covered up for an indefinite time.
There, almost directly under our noses, the money might be concealed.
I mentioned the necessity of having a "shadow" sent down to Jenkintown,
to watch all her movements, and if she moved to follow her, as we must
know all she did. I mentioned that it would be necessary to get into the
good graces of the postmaster at Jenkintown, so that we could tell where
all the letters she received were post marked, and to whom her letters
were directed.
In regard to Mr. Hastenbrook, I thought his attentions were those of a
"free lover," but that if he was seen with her again I would have him
watched. I drew the Vice-President's attention to the benefits which
would result from putting a female detective on, to become acquainted
with Mrs. Maroney at Jenkintown, as she would undoubtedly be the best
one to draw her out.
At that time I had in my employ, and at the head of my establishment,
one of the greatest female detectives who ever carried a case to a
successful conclusion. She had been in my employ for two years, and had
worked up the cases given her in an astonishingly able manner, proving
herself a woman of strong, clear discernment. As she takes a prominent
part in bringing to light the facts which follow, and in clearing away
the mystery that overhung the disappearance of the forty thousand
dollars, a short description of her may not prove uninteresting.
Two years prior to the time of which I am now writing, I was seated one
afternoon in my private office, pondering deeply over some matters, and
arranging various plans, when a lady was shown in. She was above the
medium height, slender, graceful in her movements, and perfectly
self-possessed in her manner. I invited her to take a seat, and then
observed that her features, although not what would be called handsome,
were of a decidedly intellectual cast. Her eyes were very attractive,
being dark blue, and filled with fire. She had a broad, honest face,
which would cause one in distress instinctively to select her as a
confidante, in whom to confide in time of sorrow, or from whom to seek
consolation. She seemed possessed of the masculine attributes of
firmness and decision, but to have brought all her faculties under
complete control.
In a very pleasant tone she introduced herself as Mrs. Kate Warne,
stating that she was a widow, and that she had come to inquire whether I
would not employ her as a detective.
At this time female detectives were unheard of. I told her it was not
the custom to employ women as detectives, but asked her what she thought
she could do.
She replied that she could go and worm out secrets in many places to
which it was impossible for male detectives to gain access. She had
evidently given the matter much study, and gave many excellent reasons
why she could be of service.
I finally became convinced that it would be a good idea to employ her.
True, it was the first experiment of the sort that had ever been tried;
but we live in a progressive age, and in a progressive country. I
therefore determined at least to try it, feeling that Mrs. Warne was a
splendid subject with whom to begin.
I told her to call the next day, and I would consider the matter, and
inform her of my decision. The more I thought of it, the more convinced
I became that the idea was a good one, and I determined to employ her.
At the time appointed she called. I entered into an agreement with her,
and soon after gave a case into her charge. She succeeded far beyond my
utmost expectations, and I soon found her an invaluable acquisition to
my force.
The Vice-President placed such full reliance in me that I had no
hesitation in giving him the above sketch of Kate Warne, and advising
that she be sent to Jenkintown, accompanied by a young lady who should
have no direct connection with the case, but simply act as Kate's
companion and friend. I knew this would greatly increase the expenses,
but, as he well knew, we were now dealing with an uncommonly smart man
and woman, and in order to succeed, we must be sharp indeed!
As I had previously said, when a person has a secret, he must find some
one in whom to confide, and talk the subject over with him. In this case
Maroney had evidently confided the secret of the robbery to his wife,
and now, while they were apart, was the time to draw it out. What was
wanted was a person who could ingratiate herself into the confidence of
Mrs. Maroney, become her bosom friend, and so, eventually, be sure of
learning the secret of her overwrought mind, by becoming her special
confidante.
I also suggested the propriety of placing a handsome, gentlemanly man at
Jenkintown, who should be provided with a span of horses and a handsome
carriage, and deport himself generally as a gentleman of leisure. His
duties would be to get up a flirtation with Mrs. Maroney, prevail on her
to drive out with him, and, if possible, entice her to quiet, little
fish-suppers, where he could ply her with champagne, and, under its
exhilarating influence, draw from her portions of her secret. A woman of
Mrs. Maroney's stamp, while separated from her husband, would most
likely desire gentlemen's company, and as she, like most of her class,
would put up with none but the handsomest, it was necessary to select as
fine a looking man to be her wooer as could be found. She seemed to have
already provided herself with a lover, in the person of Hastenbrook,
and it was necessary to get some one able to "cut him out."
The company had a gentleman in their employ, named De Forest, whom I
thought admirably adapted for this purpose, and if the Vice-President
would allow me, I would assign to him the task of becoming Mrs.
Maroney's lover. The instructions I would give him would be few and
simple, and he need know nothing of the case, further than that he was
to go to Jenkintown with a carriage and span of horses, make himself
acquainted with Mrs. Maroney, and report daily all that took place.
I had already given Mr. Bangs entire charge of the detectives employed
in the case, so that he would remain in Philadelphia, while I would keep
up a constant communication with him by telegraph and mail.
The Vice-President coincided with me in all my plans, and said the Adams
Express were going to let me have my own way, and that they had
unbounded confidence in me. I felt that their placing such entire
confidence in a young man like me was indeed flattering, and I was
determined to prove to them that their confidence was not misplaced.
Having made all necessary arrangements in Philadelphia, I left for
Chicago to prepare Mrs. Warne and her friend for the case.
De Forest was given the necessary instructions, and drove out to
Jenkintown with his team. He was a man about thirty-five years old, five
feet eleven inches in height, remarkably good looking, with long black
hair, and full beard and mustache, and in Philadelphia he was known as a
perfect "lady-killer."
On getting into Jenkintown he put up at the tavern, and made
arrangements to spend the summer. He then drove back to Philadelphia,
reported to the Vice-President and Bangs, got his trunk, and drove back
to Jenkintown.
_CHAPTER XII._
De Forest loitered around Jenkintown, and found that a gentleman who
owned beautifully laid out grounds allowed the public to frequent them
at certain times, so long as they did no damage to the walks or the
flowers. The garden was a charming place, and Mrs. Maroney and Flora
would often pass the morning in strolling through it. De Forest
discovered this, and made the grounds a place of constant resort. The
first day or two, as he passed Mrs. Maroney and her daughter, he would
politely raise his hat to them. Then he would meet Flora as she ran
around the grounds, and by paying her little attentions, soon caused the
mother's heart to warm toward him, and made the daughter the medium of
forming the mother's acquaintance. At the end of three or four days Mrs.
Maroney remarked to Mrs. Cox: "What a fine man Mr. De Forest is!" All
worked well.
When she went to Philadelphia, Green, who was shadowing her, entirely
unknown to De Forest, found that she frequented a famous restaurant on
Eighth street, where she met Mr. Hastenbrook. In the evening, on her
return to Jenkintown, she always met De Forest and strolled around with
him. What with the gallant Hastenbrook, with his splendid mustache, on
the one hand, and the sentimental De Forest, with his long hair and full
beard, on the other, she had her hands full, and felt that her lot was
cast in pleasant places. We will leave her to enjoy herself, and turn
our attention to Chicago.
On my arrival, I selected Mr. Rivers as the best man to go to
Jenkintown, and lie quietly in wait, keeping a sharp lookout on the
movements of Mrs. Maroney. He was born and brought up in Philadelphia,
and was well acquainted with it and the surrounding country. I gave him
full, clear instructions as to the part he was to perform in this drama
of real life, and he started the same day for Philadelphia, where he was
to report to Mr. Bangs. I also saw Kate Warne, told her I wanted her to
make a trip, and to get ready as soon as possible. She was also to get a
Miss Johnson to be her companion.
In the morning she came to me for instructions. I gave her a full
history of the case, and of all the steps that had been taken up to the
time; described Mr. and Mrs. Maroney, stated that I thought they were
not married, and, so far as pomp and splash made fine society, they
frequented it. I then said: "You remember Jules Imbert, of Bills of
Exchange notoriety?"
She answered, with a smile, that she remembered him well.
"Then," said I, "you had better assume to be his wife. Mrs. Maroney will
most likely wish to remain in retirement for some time. She will
probably remain in Jenkintown all summer and spend the winter in
Philadelphia. You know all about Jules Imbert's operations, so you will
arrange for a permanent stay in Jenkintown, get acquainted with Mrs.
Maroney, and when you get thoroughly familiar with her, make her your
confidante, and to show her how implicitly you rely on her friendship,
disclose to her that you are the wife of a noted forger, who is serving
a term in the penitentiary. As confidence begets confidence, Mrs.
Maroney will, most certainly, in time unbosom herself to you."
I described the different persons engaged on the case: De Forest, the
lover; Green, the "shadow," etc., and instructed her that not even De
Forest was to know who she was or what her errand.
In a few days handsome toilets were ready for Kate Warne--whom we will
hereafter know as Madam Imbert--and Miss Johnson. As soon as possible I
started for Philadelphia accompanied by the two ladies, and on arriving
in the city took rooms in the Merchants' Hotel. Kate Warne felt sure she
was going to win. She always felt so, and I never knew her to be beaten.
Mr. Bangs reported that he had sent Rivers on to Jenkintown, where he
obtained board in a private family. He pretended that he had a very sore
arm, which prevented him from working and obliged him to go up to
Philadelphia to get it dressed. As he was doing nothing he concluded he
would live in Jenkintown, where board was much cheaper than in the city.
Green had been ordered to Philadelphia to take charge of Mrs. Maroney
when she came up to the city, or to follow her if she started on another
trip.
Madam Imbert and Miss Johnson drove out to Jenkintown and passed a
couple of days at the tavern. They found that the rooms, though plain,
were very neatly kept, and that the table was abundantly supplied with
good, substantial food. Madam Imbert expressed herself well satisfied
with the town, the purity of the air, and its beautiful drives and
walks; and as her system had become rather debilitated by a long
residence in the South, she thought she would spend the summer there and
recuperate her failing health. She made an arrangement with the landlord
to spend the summer at his house, drove into Philadelphia and reported
to me. She had her baggage sent out, and the following day returned with
Miss Johnson and they took up their abode in the tavern.
The reader will observe that Jenkintown is having a large increase made
to its population, principally of male and female detectives. Stemples,
the landlord of the tavern, had seldom had so many distinguished guests,
and visions of Jenkintown becoming a fashionable summer resort floated
before him, and he felt that the day was not distant when his humble
tavern would, in all likelihood, be turned into a huge caravansary,
filled to overflowing with the élite of society.
All went smoothly with De Forest and Mrs. Maroney in their love-making.
Every day they met and strolled through the shaded walks of the garden.
He lavished a great deal of tenderness on Flora, which he would gladly
have bestowed on the mother, and Flora was no more charmed with him than
was Mrs. Maroney.
One day, as they strolled through the most secluded part of the grounds,
De Forest, with a beating heart, presented a beautiful bouquet to her.
Mrs. Maroney accepted it with a pleasant smile, held down her head a
little and blushed most charmingly. De Forest was more than elated, he
was fascinated. He met me in Philadelphia a day or two after and said
with much feeling:
"Why, Pinkerton, why _do_ you keep watch of such a woman? She is the
most beautiful, most charming lady I ever encountered! By heavens! I am
in love with her myself!"
I advised him to be careful, as the woman might be very beautiful, but
still be a serpent! I found he made a truly devoted lover, and so I had
nothing to complain of in that respect.
When Madam Imbert and Miss Johnson arrived at Stemples's, the
inhabitants of Jenkintown were agog to know who they were and whence
they came. They evidently belonged to a high class of society, and all
sorts of stories were circulated about them. The taller of the two
ladies was quiet, not given to conversing much, and was very kind and
considerate with the servants at the hotel.
De Forest had managed to scrape up a slight acquaintance with them at
the breakfast table, and when Mrs. Maroney, who, like everyone else, had
heard of their arrival, casually remarked that she wondered who they
were, he was enabled to inform her that the tall lady was from the South
and that her name was Madam Imbert.
This was enough for Mrs. Maroney, she loved the South. Maroney was a
Southerner, and her heart warmed toward any one from there, so she
determined to avail herself of the first opportunity of getting an
introduction to Madam Imbert.
She entered into a dissertation on Maroney and his virtues; did not
exactly say that he owned any negroes, but hinted that he would soon do
so. She spoke of Maroney as a man who had plenty of money. De Forest
turned the conversation from Maroney as soon as possible, for, to tell
the truth, he was as much in love with her as was the gallant
Hastenbrook, and "my husband" was a term that grated harshly on his ear.
De Forest learned that she was going into Philadelphia on the following
day, and determined to ask her to let him have the pleasure of driving
her in. He had the proposition several times at his tongue's end, but
held back from uttering it, for fear she should decline. At length he
summoned up courage enough to disclose his wish. Mrs. Maroney had a
habit of blushing. She blushed very sweetly, and accepted his kind offer
with many thanks.
De Forest was now all animation. He went to the tavern, had his buggy
and set of harness cleaned and scoured till they were bright as new, and
gave orders to the groom to bring up his horses in the morning without a
hair out of place. When a lady and gentleman go out for a drive they
like to be by themselves, and generally find a child somewhat _de trop_.
De Forest sincerely hoped that Flora would not be brought along, but,
oh! deceitful man, he expressed a wish to Mrs. Maroney that the darling
child accompany them. Mrs. Maroney very much relieved him by deciding
that Flora had better remain at home and amuse her auntie, who would be
_so_ lonely without her!
Bright and early in the morning De Forest was up, and in the stable,
seeing that everything was just as it should be about his turn-out. He
then dressed himself carefully, ate a hurried breakfast, put on a
stylish driving coat, and, jumping into his buggy, drove down to Cox's.
Mrs. Maroney looked perfectly bewitching as she appeared, dressed in a
bright spring costume, and De Forest tingled in every vein, as he helped
her into the carriage and took a seat beside her. He grasped the reins,
and the handsome bays were off with a bound.
What would have been Maroney's feelings if he could have seen his wife
and her gay cavalier?
It was a beautiful April morning; the breeze was fresh and exhilarating;
the fields were clothed with verdure, and the trees loaded with buds.
From every side the birds poured forth their song. It was the season of
love, and who could be more completely "in season" than was De Forest?
The roads were in splendid condition, and they bowled along rapidly,
carrying on an animated conversation. When they arrived in Philadelphia,
De Forest drove to Mitchell's restaurant, opposite Independence Hall,
where Mrs. Maroney alighted, and he drove off to stable his horses,
intending to return at once and order a hearty dinner.
_CHAPTER XIII._
De Forest, after stabling his horses, proceeded to the Adams Express
Office and reported his success to the Vice-President and Mr. Bangs. He
was highly elated, and they laughed heartily to see how well the play
worked.
"By-the-by!" said De Forest, "I promised to go right back and meet her.
Oh! I almost forgot! two ladies have lately arrived in Jenkintown; I
think they are rich, at least the taller one is so reported. Her name is
Madam Imbert, and she is from the South. They don't go out much; go to
the gardens occasionally, and Mrs. Maroney is anxious to form their
acquaintance; I think I will get thoroughly acquainted with them
by-and-by."
The Vice-President and Bangs paid no attention to this, knowing that
Madam Imbert could take care of herself. They instructed De Forest to
attend to his own business, let other people alone, and with this
admonition sent him off.
What was De Forest's astonishment on returning to the restaurant to find
the _lady_ gone! He did not like it, but concluded the only thing he
could do was to wait. There are plenty of loafers around "Independence
Hall" at any time, day or night, so drinking a mint julep and lighting a
cigar, he joined the throng. He fumed and fretted for over an hour and a
half, when he saw Mrs. Maroney coming down the street, looking very
warm. He met her and she excused herself by saying that she had called
on a lady friend who lived on Spruce street, just above Twentieth, and
finding her sick had been unable to get away; that she had walked back
very fast and felt completely exhausted.
De Forest felt very sorry, and tenderly said she must not over-exert
herself. He then ordered dinner, which was served up regardless of cost,
and which they washed down with a few bottles of champagne of the very
best brand. They were soon the happiest of friends, and all thoughts of
separation had vanished from De Forest's mind.
It is strange what a difference there will sometimes be in reports.
About two hours after De Forest made his report, Green came in and
reported that according to orders he had "shadowed" De Forest and Mrs.
Maroney when they drove into the city.
De Forest had left Mrs. Maroney at Mitchell's and driven off while he
remained and kept his eye upon her. She left Mitchell's, walked over to
the Washington House and went into a room where she remained for over an
hour and a half. She left the hotel with Mr. Hastenbrook, who politely
bade her good-bye at the corner of Eighth street, while she went down to
Mitchell's and met De Forest, poor De Forest! but, "where ignorance is
bliss, 'tis folly to be wise." After dinner De Forest ordered up his
horses, and the happy pair, rendered extremely sentimental by the
mellowing influence of the wine, started on their homeward journey. They
stopped at a wayside inn a few miles out of the city, had a mint julep,
and then proceeded on their way home, both very happy, and De Forest
decidedly _spooney_.
Rivers had an easy time of it at Jenkintown. He got well in with Josh.
Cox and his friends Horton and Barclay. In fact any one with a little
money to spend on drinks could easily form their acquaintance. He became
so thick with Josh. that Josh. would gladly have taken him into his
house as a boarder had it not been for the fact that Mrs. Maroney and
her daughter were boarding with him and had taken up all the spare room.
Rivers did not become acquainted with Mrs. Maroney, as she was proud and
arrogant, and would disdain to form the acquaintance of any low "white
trash" like him. Whenever Mrs. Maroney went to Philadelphia he followed
her and excused his frequent absences to Josh. by stating that he went
up to get his arm dressed. That arm was indeed a very sore one, and his
physician must have made a small fortune out of him alone. When Rivers
found that Mrs. Maroney was going into town with her escort, he would go
in on the train and get to the outskirts of the city in time to meet
them as they drove in. She was generally accompanied by De Forest, who
had become her constant attendant. After they reached the city they had
to drive slowly, and so he could follow them with ease. De Forest had
been ordered to always drive to Mitchell's when he came in with Mrs.
Maroney, and Green was there ready to take charge of her when they
arrived, relieving Rivers, who would return by the evening train to
Jenkintown.
Mrs. Maroney had a great desire to become acquainted with Madam Imbert
and Miss Johnson. Madam Imbert appeared very sad, and it was currently
reported that she had brought the lively Miss Johnson with her to
console her and keep her in good spirits. The desired introduction was
brought about by an accident. Mrs. Maroney was taking her accustomed
stroll through the pleasure grounds, accompanied by De Forest and Flora.
Flora, as usual, full of fun, was running far ahead of her, when she saw
two ladies coming down a cross-path. As she turned her head to look at
them, still running at full speed, she caught her foot in the grass
borders of the walk and was thrown violently to the gravel pavement. The
ladies, who proved to be Madam Imbert and Miss Johnson, rushed to her,
and the Madam picked her up. Flora had scratched her hands badly, and
Madam Imbert had partially bound them up before her mother and De Forest
arrived. This led to an introduction, and Mrs. Maroney was not slow in
following it up.
The next day Madam Imbert received a call from Mrs. Maroney, who wished
to more fully return her thanks for her kindness to her daughter. The
acquaintance progressed slowly, Mrs. Maroney making all the advances.
There was something about Madam Imbert that seemed to draw one toward
her. Mrs. Maroney felt that the Madam was a better woman than she, and
that it did her good to pass an hour in her company. As she became more
familiar with her, she discovered that Madam Imbert received many
letters through the post, and often found her crying over them. The
Madam would put them hurriedly to one side, and greet her with a forced
smile which showed the efforts she made to hide her grief. Mrs. Maroney
deeply sympathized with her, as she compared her own gay and happy
life, free from care, to Madam Imbert's, from which every ray of
sunshine seemed to have been blotted out.
On one of the trips which Mrs. Maroney made to Philadelphia with De
Forest, Rivers, who had headed them off, as usual, at the outskirts of
the town, and was following them in, was observed by De Forest. De
Forest had seen the man with the sore arm just before they left
Jenkintown, and he now noticed him following them from block to block.
He had no idea that the man could be following Mrs. Maroney, and
supposed he must be following him. The idea flashed into his mind that
it must be some inquisitive boor, who was following him merely out of
prurient curiosity to see how he conducted himself with Mrs. Maroney. He
did not mention the matter to her, but as he saw the man still following
him his anger overflowed, and he determined that when he left Mrs.
Maroney at Mitchell's, he would find out what the fellow wanted with
him. When he arrived at Mitchell's Mrs. Maroney went in, and he drove to
the stables with the horses. Rivers met Green here, and turning Mrs.
Maroney over to him, came to the office of the Adams Express and
reported to Bangs.
Bangs gave him his instructions and he went out of the office by the
rear entrance. He saw De Forest in the alley, but as he had nothing to
do with him, let him go. He went down Chestnut street, turned into
Third, where the cars start from, and, as he had a few hours to spare,
determined to see some of his old friends. He had been loafing around
about an hour when one of the detectives of the city force stepped up
to him, and, tapping him on the shoulder, said: "You are my prisoner."
"What have I done to deserve arrest?" demanded Rivers, completely
dumbfounded.
"Never you mind that! you're my prisoner, and if you don't come along
quietly, you'll pay for it!" was all the consolation he got from the
detective.
"But I haven't done anything," pleaded Rivers.
"There, just shut up, now! I don't want any of your talk. I know my
business, and you're my prisoner; so just you come along."
Rivers, finding resistance useless, went with him. At the same time he
saw De Forest looking on, and seeming to rather enjoy his predicament.
As the detective was taking him up Chestnut street toward his
headquarters, they passed the Adams Express Office. Bangs happened to
step out at this moment, and was much amazed to see Rivers under arrest.
They said nothing, but Rivers looked steadily at Bangs, and Bangs at
him. Without a moment's reflection, Bangs rushed off to report the
arrest of Rivers to me. I was holding a consultation with Madam Imbert
and Miss Johnson, at the Merchants' Hotel. Everything was working well,
and I felt particularly happy, when Bangs rushed in and dispelled my
happiness by stating that Rivers had been arrested. At the news, my
heart fairly jumped into my mouth. I had felt success almost within my
grasp, and now my plans had fallen through entirely.
The thought at once flashed through my mind that Hastenbrook was at the
bottom of the trouble. He must be a friend of Maroney's in disguise. I
left Madam Imbert and the rest of the party at the Merchants' and
proceeded to the Adams Express Office, where I met the Vice-President. I
informed him of Rivers's arrest, and my fears that Maroney had
checkmated me. The Vice-President said that he thought he could entirely
remove my fears; that De Forest had come in from Jenkintown with Mrs.
Maroney, and had reported to him. He stated that he had fixed a fellow
nicely. A fellow had been loafing around Jenkintown for three or four
weeks. De Forest had observed him just before starting for the city, and
when he reached the suburbs discovered him dogging his movements
wherever he went. He drove to Mitchell's, and came over to report, and
the impudent fellow still kept on his track. He thereupon went to the
city detective's headquarters. The employés of the Adams Express were
well known, so that he had no difficulty in getting a detective, and,
walking out with him, he pointed out the man, and said he would like to
have him arrested, as he had been following him all the morning. The
detective kept watch of the man for over an hour, and then, finding that
he continued to loaf around, arrested him on the charge of vagrancy and
took him to the office, where he had him locked up until he could prefer
charges against him.
As may be easily imagined, I felt greatly relieved when I heard this.
The ridiculousness of the whole transaction crossed my mind, and as the
Vice-President equally appreciated the joke with me, it was some time
before we could control our risibles sufficiently to make arrangements
for the release of Rivers. I asked the Vice-President if he knew some
lawyer whom he could get to volunteer his services in behalf of Rivers.
He suggested one, and soon afterward a lawyer called at the detective's
office and demanded the charge on which Rivers was held. He found that
it was only a nominal one, and effected his release without any one's
being the wiser as to his business.
When De Forest returned to Jenkintown that evening, he was greatly
surprised to find Rivers there, as large as life, and drinking with his
friend Cox as if nothing had happened. De Forest could not tell how he
got out, but supposed he must have been let off on paying a fine; all he
knew was that the dirty loafer had completely spoiled his pleasure.
We will now leave Jenkintown for a time, and return to Montgomery.
_CHAPTER XIV._
Maroney passed the time very pleasantly. Mr. Floyd, of the Exchange, was
on friendly terms with him, notwithstanding the little difficulty they
had had in regard to Mrs. Maroney. He had no business to attend to and
passed a good deal of time in the office of the hotel, talking with
Porter and furnishing him with an abundant supply of good cigars.
Porter was a thoroughly good fellow, and had an inexhaustible fund of
stories and anecdotes, some of them rather "smutty," but they were just
the sort that suited Maroney, so that they had become the thickest of
friends. Sometimes Maroney would take a hand in a social game of euchre
at Patterson's, at other times he would take Porter or May out for a
drive behind "Yankee Mary," and as they drove along expatiate on her
many good qualities.
He seldom went into the express office, as, although he knew the
employés well, he felt that when he called they kept a sharp lookout on
his movements, and he did not appreciate such courtesy. He would
occasionally go into the express car to see the messenger, and it was
noticed that he always looked at the money pouch, though at the time
nothing special was thought of it.
He seemed never to tire of relating the incidents of his journey, and
would raise a hearty laugh by the manner in which he would describe his
adventures at Natchez, on the hill, or of his visit to the amphitheatre
of his friends, Spaulding & Rogers, in New Orleans. He was, to all
appearances, the happiest man in town. He often talked over with Porter,
his plans for the future, saying that, after his trial, he intended to
go into the livery stable business, and wanted Porter to become his
clerk. There was very little talk about the robbery in Montgomery, and
when any one would mention it to Maroney, he would say, "You will see
how it will end by-and-by," and always intimated that he would sue the
company for heavy damages after his vindication by trial. Very little
was said about Mrs. Maroney. She had few friends, indeed, yet these few
seemed to have warm feelings towards her; most of the ladies seemed
pleased that she had gone, leaving Maroney still with them.
Maroney passed a good deal of time in his lawyer's office and seemed to
be making elaborate preparations for his trial. He would often walk out
on the plank road towards the plantations, and Porter, by great
exertions, found that he was attracted by a lovely girl who lived some
three miles from the city. He never came into town with her; it would
have been considered improper for her to receive the attentions of a
married man, and a scandal would have been the inevitable result. There
appeared to be nothing wrong between them, and Porter became convinced
that it was a genuine love affair. The girl must have known she was
doing wrong in permitting attentions from a married man; but Maroney was
most enticing when he wished to be, and in this case loved the girl with
what he thought a pure love, and easily overcame any scruple she might
have in this regard. He was very friendly with Gus McGibony, the
Montgomery detective, and was always willing to do him a favor.
McGibony being the only _known_ detective at Montgomery, was considered
a big man in his way. Maroney always treated him as such, played cards
with him and called him up to take a drink when he treated. Gus always
spoke in the highest terms of Maroney, and had evidently taken sides in
the case, for, when he was asked his opinion in regard to the robbery,
he would say that Maroney was bound to win. In this opinion he was
supported by the whole community.
Porter would sometimes talk over the case with Watts, Judd & Jackson,
the legal advisers of the company. They were firmly of the opinion that
Maroney had committed the robbery, yet still they must say that there
was no proof by which he could be convicted when the case was brought
for trial.
Roch was having an easy time of it, for as long as Maroney remained in
Montgomery he had nothing to do but smoke his pipe and drink lager. He
was taking a good rest after his arduous labors "shadowing" Maroney on
his lengthy tour. At least the duties would have been arduous to any one
but Roch, who, however, rather enjoyed them, and longed to prepare for
another chase.
I knew that something decisive must soon be done, as the time set for
Maroney's trial was rapidly approaching. We--the Adams Express and
I--must move something.
Maroney was evidently preparing for his defense, and all was resting
quietly. As the reader well knows I had a sharp watch set on the
operations at Jenkintown and on all that occurred in Montgomery.
On the first of May, Maroney announced his intention of going North on a
visit. He was with Porter at Patterson's at the time and seemed to have
suddenly formed the resolution. He said he had consulted with his
counsel and they had informed him that he might as well go if he wished,
as there was nothing to detain him. He desired to see his wife and a few
friends, and so had determined to make a short visit to the North. His
old trunk, up in the garret of the hotel, amongst the unclaimed baggage,
was never looked at.
Every one knew it was Maroney's, and even the colored porter, who
sometimes went up into the garret with Porter, to look up some article
that had been sent for, would say: "Dat's Massa 'Roney's trunk."
The day before Maroney started for the North he packed up everything he
needed for his journey in his large trunk, and then said to Porter, who
was assisting him: "Let's go up to my old trunk, I still have some
cigars in it, and I think it would be well to get some of them to smoke
on my journey."
Porter sent for Tom, and they all three went into the garret. Tom
unbound the trunk; Maroney took out some cigars and articles of wearing
apparel, and, having it tied up again, returned to his room. No further
notice was taken of the trunk by any one.
To place me on my guard, Porter immediately telegraphed me, in cipher,
of this intended move. The dispatch reached me in Chicago, and was
indeed news to me. What he intended to do in the North I could not
tell. I thought myself nearly blind in trying to solve the reasons of
his movement, and in arranging plans for his reception in the North.
What could we do? I was not a lawyer, but understood a good deal of the
law, and felt that now was the time to work something in our favor. I
soon made up my mind what course to pursue, and started the next day for
Philadelphia, to lay my plans before the Vice-President personally;
telegraphing Porter to get Roch ready to shadow Maroney. He was to
retain his Dutch disguise, as it had done good service before, and had
not been "spotted."
I arrived safely in Philadelphia, and found that I had not much preceded
Maroney.
On the second of May, Maroney, having everything in readiness for his
departure, went to the depot, accompanied by a great many friends, and
took the train for the North. Roch had reached the depot before him, and
had bought a through second-class ticket to Philadelphia, _via_
Baltimore. Nothing of any consequence took place until they reached
Baltimore. Maroney came through the cars only twice, seeming to be
confident that he was not followed. He took an occasional walk to
stretch his legs, but kept quietly to himself the whole of the journey.
At Baltimore Roch was met by Bangs and Green, who relieved him from duty
when they got the "spot" on Maroney. They found Roch pretty well
exhausted, as he had not slept on the journey, and had been obliged to
sit in a very cramped position.
On getting into Philadelphia, Maroney went to the Washington House,
while Roch went to the Merchants' Hotel, where he immediately retired,
and had a good long sleep.
At Jenkintown all went quietly. Mrs. Maroney was well loved by De
Forest, well "shadowed" by Rivers and Green, and greatly benefited by
the pure society of Madam Imbert. She said to Madam Imbert, a few days
before the arrival of Maroney: "I am happy to state that my husband will
be with me in a few days. I am _so_ delighted at the prospect of meeting
him once more, as he has been separated from me a great deal. We shall
have a splendid time in Philadelphia and New York; perhaps spend the
summer in Jenkintown, and then go South, _via_ Cincinnati and
Louisville; passing through Kentucky and Tennessee, into Alabama, and
stopping at all the cities on the way."
On the fifth of May she packed up her trunks, and Flora and she were
driven to the Jenkintown station. De Forest offered to take them into
the city in his buggy, but the offer was declined, with thanks, and they
left for Philadelphia without escort.
At Philadelphia she called a carriage, and, with Flora, was driven to
the Washington House. In a short time Maroney arrived, entered his name
on the register, and was shown to his wife's room, and the two after an
eventful separation, were thus once more united.
Having no need of Rivers's services at Jenkintown, he was called to
Philadelphia, to "shadow" the parties there. Madam Imbert and Miss
Johnson of course remained.
On the sixth of May, Maroney mailed a letter, which the "shadow"
discovered was directed to "William M. Carter, Locksmith, William st.,
N. Y." A note was taken of this, and as soon as possible Bangs left for
New York, to interview Mr. Carter. He found that Carter was one of the
best locksmiths in the city, and inclined to be a good fellow.
Bangs, representing the New York office of the Adams Express, gave him
some jobs, making keys, etc.; and finally brought him a key to the lock
of the pouch used by the company, and asked him to make two just like
it.
Carter said he could make them, and after examining the key for some
time, said: "But stop a little; a friend of mine, now in Philadelphia,
sent me a draft of a key he wanted made, and it is almost exactly like
this!" Producing the draft, he exclaimed, "it is exactly the same!" He
handed it to Bangs, who found it a finely executed drawing of the pouch
key, made by Maroney. Bangs paid no attention to this circumstance, but
Carter said he would not make the key, as he did not know to what use it
might be put. He would return the draft to his friend and say he could
not make it. Bangs managed to get a copy of the draft before it was
returned.
On discovering this, I saw through Maroney's plan at once; he wished to
have a key made similar to the pouch key, and introduce it as evidence
in his trial that others than the agents might have keys to the
Company's pouches. Two days before Maroney met his wife in Philadelphia,
I held a consultation with the Vice-President and Bangs in the office of
the Express Co. I maintained that it was the Company's duty to arrest
Maroney. They had a right to bring suit against an agent of theirs
wherever found. I urged him to lay the matter before the Company's
counsel in Philadelphia. If we could get him in prison here all would be
well, and the expense and trouble of following him from place to place
would be entirely avoided. It was our duty to keep him in jail, where I
could introduce a detective, disguised as a fellow-prisoner, whose duty
would be to get into his confidence and finally draw from him his secret
and learn his plans for the future. I presented my ideas so clearly that
the Vice President was convinced that the plan was a good one, and he at
once saw St. George Tucker Campbell, the eminent lawyer, laid the whole
case before him and asked his opinion. They looked the whole case over,
and he admitted that my plan was a good one. He said we might be able to
hold Maroney for a short time, but he really did not think we could long
do so. He might be able to fight it out for three or four weeks, but by
that time Maroney would be sure to effect his release. He would be so
excited over his daily expectation of effecting his release that it
would be impossible for me to make a proper effort to mould his mind to
my purpose. He produced sufficient evidence to prove to me that it would
be bad policy to try my plan in Philadelphia. This was a crushing blow,
and I felt as if a load had been placed upon my breast. Mr. Campbell
left me one ray of hope by stating that he was not fully posted in the
laws of the State of New York, and that I might be enabled to carry out
my purpose there. Leaving Bangs in charge at Philadelphia, the
Vice-President and I started for New York. We had a meeting with the
President and other officers of the Company, and determined to lay the
matter before Clarence A. Seward, the Company's counsellor in New York.
He had just been engaged by the Company, as I had been, and so far had
attended only to some small matters for them. The Vice-President
notified him to meet us at the Astor House, where the case was laid
before him. After looking up the points of law involved, he decided that
we could hold Maroney in New York. We then instructed him to get the
papers in readiness, so that the moment Maroney stepped into New York he
should be arrested. How happy did I now feel! All care was gone, the
weight of sorrow had been lifted from my breast as if by the hand of
magic: hope had taken the place of despair, and I returned to
Philadelphia with renewed energy and firmness, bound to win beyond a
peradventure.
I now assigned to Green the duty of shadowing Mrs. Maroney, and to
Rivers the duty of shadowing Maroney. I gave them strict orders to keep
separate, and to make a move only when the persons they were shadowing
moved. After Maroney had washed himself and removed his travel-soiled
garments, he had a long confidential talk with his wife, played with and
caressed Flora, and then walked out with them on Chestnut street. They
proceeded as far as Eighth, apparently amusing themselves by looking
into the shop windows, and then returned and did not leave the hotel
during the evening, passing the time in their rooms. At eleven they
retired, thus allowing their "shadows," Green and Rivers to retire also.
_CHAPTER XV._
Saturday, the seventh of May, was a busy one for my operatives. Maroney
left the hotel, followed by Rivers, walked around, visited different
stores, and finally stopped at the corner of Vine and Third streets. In
five or ten minutes, who should come along and meet him but Mrs.
Maroney, shadowed by Green? It seemed strange to Rivers that they should
have taken this roundabout way of meeting, and he could not understand
the reason for it. When Mrs. Maroney came up, Maroney took her arm, and
together they walked to the office of Alderman G. W. Williams. They
remained in the office some fifteen minutes, and on coming out went
directly to the Washington House. In a few minutes they again appeared,
accompanied by Flora, and getting into a carriage were driven to the
ferry, crossed over to Camden, and took the train for New York.
Rivers, who was the fastest runner, started on a keen run for the Adams
Express Office and reported to me that the Maroney family were under way
for New York. Bangs was in New York, so I telegraphed to him, informing
him of their departure for that city. He immediately found Mr. Seward
and had everything in readiness to give them a warm reception.
But what had they been doing at Alderman Williams's? It was better to
find out at once. I supposed he had been executing some deed. I
consulted with the Vice-President about the person most likely to
procure the desired information from Alderman Williams. After due
consideration, we decided that Mr. Franklin, head of the city
detectives, was the best man for the purpose. Franklin had always been
square and honest in all his dealings, but I determined not to put too
much confidence in him. I am always suspicious of men until I know them
thoroughly, or have them employed in my establishment; I therefore
instructed Rivers to watch Alderman Williams, and learn all that he
could.
The Vice-President sent for Franklin, and employed him to find out what
had transpired at the Alderman's. Franklin was a genial man, a good
talker, and devoted to his duty. He proved himself to be the best man we
could have procured for our purpose. He was well acquainted with
Alderman Williams, and strolled along past his office. The Alderman was
seated with his feet cocked up on the window-sill, smoking a cigar, and,
not having much to do, hailed Franklin as he went by, asking him to come
in. Franklin accepted the invitation, and lighting a cigar which the
Alderman handed him, took a seat.
The Alderman had witnessed an amusing scene, and, knowing Franklin's
fondness for a good story, related it to him. Franklin thought the story
a good one, laughed heartily at it, and then told one or two of his own.
He finally turned to the Alderman, and said; "I say, Williams, this is
rather dry work. What do you say to going down to the restaurant with
me, and having some oysters and a bottle of champagne to wash them
down?"
Williams, like most Aldermen, was fond of the good things of this earth,
and accepted the proposition without waiting for a second asking. He
locked up his office, and they went down to the restaurant. Franklin
gave his orders, and the delicious bivalves were soon smoking before
them. He called for champagne, and under its exhilarating influence grew
wittier and wittier, and kept the Alderman in such roars of laughter
that he could scarcely swallow his oysters. At length Franklin told a
story of a man by the name of Maroney, who had come to the city, and
getting into rather questionable company, had been fleeced of quite a
large amount of money. He had sought Franklin's aid in ferreting out the
thieves, but finding it would be necessary to disclose his name and the
circumstances in which he was robbed, and that the facts would find
their way into the daily papers, he concluded to bear the loss and say
no more about it.
[Illustration: "Franklin gave his orders and the delicious bivalves were
soon smoking before them. He called for champagne, and under its
exhilarating influence grew wittier and wittier, and kept the alderman
in such roars of laughter that he could scarcely swallow his
oysters."--Page 125.]
As he finished this little story the Alderman laughed heartily, and
remarked: "I'll bet five dollars it is the same man."
"Why, what do you mean?" inquired Franklin.
"Well, a man named Nathan Maroney came to my office yesterday with a
wealthy widow, Mrs. Irvin, and I married them. I got a good big fee,
too, and I'll bet five dollars he is the same man that called on you. Of
course he would not want it known that he frequented such places just as
he was going to be married, and so did not prosecute. Don't you see?"
They both laughed heartily, and Franklin, having learned all he wanted
to, soon took his departure. He reported to the Vice-President that
Maroney had been married the day before, and the Vice-President
immediately communicated the news to me.
I hurriedly thought the matter over. I had all the points on Mrs.
Maroney that I wanted. I could see that there was some cogent reason for
Maroney's marrying Mrs. Irvin. He wanted to place her where she would
tell no stories. There were only two ways to do this. Maroney, the
thief, had either to murder his mistress, or to make her his wife. I
could see plainly through the whole transaction. Maroney, after
committing the robbery, had, in exact accordance with my theory, found
that he needed some one in whom he could confide, and with whom he could
ease his overburdened mind by disclosing the facts of the robbery. Who
could be a safer person than his mistress? Her interests were identical
with his; he had gained her the entrée to good society; had taken her
from a house of infamy, where she was shunned and scorned, and by
allowing her the use of his name, had placed her in a position to
_demand_ respect.
In all things she seemed devoted to his interests, and so far as he
knew, her conduct while with him had been beyond reproach. What could be
more natural than his selecting her and pouring into her ear the details
of his crime?
How well it must have made him feel to find in her not a stern moralist
who would turn from him with scorn and point to the heinousness of his
crime, but a sweet enthusiast, with ideas moulded to suit his, who
would encourage and renew his feelings of ultimate success and almost
rob crime of its horrors!
What a happy moment it must have been to her to hear Maroney give vent
to his pent-up feelings! How she must have looked forward with delight
to the coming time when Maroney, rich with his ill-gotten spoils, should
place her in a position _far_ above what she had ever anticipated
reaching! How her eyes must have flashed as she thought how she could
then return with redoubled force the scorn that had been shown to her!
She had only one more step to take and then her life of shame would be
completely covered up: Maroney _must_ marry her!!
She now had him in her power; she would be true to him if he would be to
her; but if he _refused_ her request to make her an honest woman in the
eyes of the world, woe be to him!!
"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned."
She did not at once force the matter on Maroney, but waited until she
reached the North, and then gradually unfolded to him the necessity of
his marrying her. It was a bitter pill for him to swallow, but unless he
chose to add murder to his other crimes, was his only means of safety.
The necessity was rendered all the more distasteful by the fact that he
was now really in love with a girl who possessed all the qualifications
which render the sex so dear to man. He had formed a plan to get rid of
his mistress, Mrs. Irvin, as soon as possible after his trial, and then
to marry the girl he loved, but he was doomed to disappointment. As he
had not the courage to kill Mrs. Irvin, he had been forced North to
marry her. He therefore was determined to kill two birds with one stone,
and while North have some keys made to fit the company's pouch.
I sat for some hours in the office of the General Superintendent,
cogitating over the matter, and finally concluded to have the notice of
the marriage published. I wrote out the notice in the usual form and
sent it to the _Philadelphia Press_. It read:
"MARRIED.
"MARONEY--IRVIN--At Philadelphia, on May 7th, 1859, by Alderman G.
W. Williams, Nathan Maroney, of Montgomery, Ala., to Mrs. Irvin, of
Jenkintown, Penn.
"Montgomery papers please copy."
I sent copies of the _Press_ containing this notice to all the
Montgomery papers, enclosing the usual one dollar note to pay for its
insertion in their columns, and in a few days the news was blazoned
forth in Montgomery. But I had not finished with it yet. I got the names
of all the ladies with whom Maroney was acquainted in Montgomery and the
surrounding country, also of all his male friends, and, buying a large
number of the _Press_ containing this notice, I had copies directed to
these persons; and also to his friends in Atlanta, Chattanooga,
Nashville, Memphis, Natchez, New Orleans and Mobile, not forgetting the
_highly respectable_ ladies at the pleasant house at Chattanooga, or at
Natchez, on the hill. These papers I sent to Porter by express,
directing him to mail them. Wherever I could learn of any of Maroney's
friends, I furnished them with copies of the _Press_. They must have
thought some one very kind to take so much interest in him, or more
likely thought he had sent them himself. I knew I was making capital for
the company by having the notice so fully circulated in Montgomery. The
inhabitants were amazed when they saw it, and terribly indignant at
Maroney's conduct.
While it was true that Maroney and his wife had never mingled much in
society in Montgomery, still he had brought a woman there and openly
lived with her as his wife, who had not only led a life of infamy prior
to her meeting with Maroney, but who, even then, was but his mistress.
It was an outrage upon decency, and as such was felt and resented. From
Maroney's personal popularity and agreeable manners, there were many who
believed in his innocence, still more who did not desire his conviction.
His marriage thinned the ranks of the latter and entirely wiped out
almost every trace of the former. The man who would live with and
introduce a prostitute as his wife, was regarded as never too good to be
guilty of robbery or any other crime.
The sympathy which had been felt and expressed for Maroney by those who
regarded him as fighting single-handed against a wealthy and powerful
corporation, was now regarded as having been worse than thrown away. It
was at once and permanently withdrawn. My move had proved a perfect
success and I now felt much easier about the result of the final trial
to be held in Montgomery.
We left Maroney, his wife and Flora on the cars, bound for New York, to
enjoy their honey-moon. They were shadowed by Green, and he noticed
that Mrs. Maroney appeared supremely happy. She had accomplished her
purpose; she was now a legally married woman. Maroney was in good
spirits, but must have had a hard battle to keep them up. He was now
enjoying some of the sweets of crime, being forced to leave the girl he
loved and marry a common prostitute. He had sold his freedom for gold,
and although outwardly he appeared calm and happy, inwardly he was
racked with contending emotions. What would he now not have given to be
back in his old position, free from the taint of crime, free to do as he
wished? But the fatal step had been taken; he could not retrace it, he
must go on, and when he won, as he now felt sure he would, could he not
find some quiet way to get rid of his wife? They were rapidly nearing
Jersey City, and when they reached there Mrs. Maroney grasped Maroney's
arm, and taking Flora by the hand, walked aboard the ferry-boat. No
newly-married bride ever felt more exultant than she. She glanced with
scorn at the hurrying crowd, and as they roughly jostled her, felt
contaminated by the touch. They little dreamed of the reception that
awaited them in New York. The news of their marriage had been flashed
over the wires to Bangs, and he had made all preparations to give them a
warm reception. Bangs had called for Mr. Seward, and he having all the
papers ready, drove to the Marshal's office. Seward was a great favorite
with every one, and had no trouble in getting United States Marshal
Keefe and a deputy to accompany him. They were all engaged when he
called, but readily postponed their other business to attend to him.
They, with Bangs, proceeded to the ferry and crossed over to Jersey
City, to meet the train coming from Philadelphia.
When Maroney and his wife stepped on the ferry boat they did not notice
the consultation of Green, Bangs and Marshal Keefe. When the boat
touched the wharf in New York, all was hurry and bustle. Maroney, with
his wife and Flora, stood one side for a few moments, waiting for the
crush to be over, and then stepped proudly out for the wharf. He had
taken scarcely three steps on the soil of New York before he was
confronted by Marshal Keefe.
"You are my prisoner!" said he. "Nathan Maroney, I demand that you
immediately deliver to me fifty thousand dollars, the property of the
Adams Express, which you feloniously have in your possession."
[Illustration: "_You are my prisoner!" said he. "Nathan Maroney, I
demand that you immediately deliver to me fifty thousand dollars, the
property of the Adams Express Company._"--Page 131.]
If a thunderbolt had fallen at his feet he could not have been more
astonished. The demand of the Marshal, delivered in a loud, harsh tone,
and coming so unexpectedly, completely unnerved him, and for a moment he
shook like a leaf. His head swam around, and he felt as though he would
drop to the ground. By a desperate effort he gained control of himself.
His wife hung speechless on his arm, while little Flora grasped her
mother's dress, and gazed with a startled, frightened look at the
Marshal and the rapidly gathering crowd.
"I have no money belonging to the Express Company!" said Maroney, and
supposing that that was all that was wanted with him, he attempted to
force himself past the Marshal.
"Not so fast!" exclaimed the Marshal, taking hold of one of Maroney's
arms, while his deputy stepped forward to assist him, if Maroney made
any resistance. "Not so fast, you must come with me!"
Maroney could scarcely realize his situation; it was to him a horrid
dream. In a few moments he would awake and laugh at it. But the jeering
crowd, the stern officers of the law, his weeping wife and her
frightened child, formed a scene which was indelibly stamped on his
memory never to be obliterated. His wife insisted that her husband
should be allowed to accompany her to the Astor House, and the Marshal
finally consented. At the Astor House he saw his wife and Flora in their
room, in the presence of Marshal Keefe, his deputy, and Bangs. No words
passed between them. His new-made bride of only six hours was bathed in
tears--what a honey-moon! Maroney was almost in tears himself, but he
choked them back. He kissed his wife and Flora, and motioning to the
officers that he was ready, followed them to Eldridge street jail.
How terribly must he have felt when the heavy door of his cell was
bolted upon him, and he was left in solitude to brood over his position.
How he must have cursed the moment when he married Mrs. Irvin. He did so
merely to save himself, and now he was in prison! What would he not have
given to undo what only six hours before he had been so anxious to
consummate! What a blow it would have been to him if he could have known
the efforts I was then making to disseminate through the South the news
of his marriage; but this I did not intend he should know. Mrs. Maroney
thought that Maroney would soon be out of jail, but wondered why he had
been arrested in New York. She concluded that the Company had
determined on the plan of suddenly confronting him and charging him with
the crime, hoping that if guilty he would break down and make a
confession. He had passed through the trying ordeal unscathed and most
likely would be liberated in the morning. She little thought they had
been separated never more to be united.
_CHAPTER XVI._
Mr. Seward had done his work well. I had little fear that Maroney would
get out, as his bail was fixed at one hundred thousand dollars--double
the amount of the robbery.